Sacrifice, Discovery and Loss
by schehrezade
Summary: Response to Eurydice's amazing William ficathon posted on her LJ.
1. Default Chapter

Dawn, listen to me – listen, I love you. I will always love you.  
But this is the work I have to do.  
Tel Giles…tell Giles I figured it out. And I am okay.  
And give my love to my friends.  
You have to take of each other.  
You have to be strong.  
Be brave.  
Live.  
For me…

As she ran down the narrow metal platform, the blonde Slayer was at peace.

She was done, her time in the dark was over, and there was a sense of finality as she raced to save the world one more time. Her final legacy to her friends and family…her final sacrifice.

Another day would dawn as a result of her bravery and death. This would be her gift to the world and her friends.

She felt a wave of peace and contentment fill her entire body and a small smile curved at the corners of her mouth. No more fighting the creatures that go bump in the night- it was finally over; let someone else take up the torch.

_Let them fight the good fight. It was her time._

No more creeping into her darkened home, aching and bleeding. No more curling up on the bathroom floor, her face pressed against the white tile and trying to not scream from the pain of her injuries- or from the pain in her heart from the loss of her Mom.

_In death there is release._

Her pounding feet rattled the rickety metal platform as she ran towards the shimmering blue/purple portal that was sending bolts of lightening and releasing demons into the ether. The small smile decorating her lips widened as she approached the edge...it was over...no more...she was free.

She reached the edge and leapt over without a look back.

_It was time - she was ready to die. To hand over the mantle of Slaying to another._

For a second she thought she heard her sister's voice, weeping and calling out for her, but then her ears where filled with the wind and she fell. Before she closed her eyes, the small blonde tried to catch one last glimpse of her friends, who had stood beside her and fought with her in her most desperate of hours.

They were like a series of snapshots. A montage of images that filled her heart and mind with hope and joy and sadness.

She could see Xander pulling Anya into his arms. She was injured but talking to him.

**She fell.**

Tara and Willow huddled together, whispering and kissing. Reunited finally.

**She fell.**

Giles kneeling over Ben and snuffing out his life with a firm hand over his mouth. Her final childish illusions of her Watcher were stripped away.

**She fell.**

And then him. The enigma wrapped inside a riddle and squirreled away inside a conundrum.

Spike.

William the Bloody.

Her Mortal enemy.

Her reluctant ally...a would be suitor...a vampire who loved.

_'By how and why?'_ These were Buffy's last thoughts as her body was trapped in the portal, like a fly in Amber. Her blonde hair streamed around her like a pennant caught in a breeze. There was pain as the energy from Glory's portal raced through her body, Buffy threw her head back and felt her heart slowing, a sense of lethargy filled her limbs and it became harder and harder to breath. It was agony.

A beatific smile crossed her face and her head dropped forward. It was over, she was free and as her eyes fluttered closed for the final time she saw a shock of white blond hair and Spike's slumped form.

Buffy Anne Summers  
1981-2001  
Beloved Sister  
Devoted Friend  
She saved the world a lot…

--------------------------------

Buffy opened her eyes and stared up at the clear blue sky above her and frowned.

_Where the hell am I?_ She pushed herself up on her elbows with a groan and looked around curiously. "Well this sure ain't Sunnydale," she muttered as her hazel eyes took in the pastoral scene that surrounded her.

"No it's not, it's Valhalla." A voice echoed from behind her.

"Vallwhosists?" Buffy sat up and turned to face a tall dark skinned woman who walked towards her with a loose limb grace and confidence that Buffy recognised. "You're a Slayer!"

The leather-clad woman nodded with a gentle smile. "Was a Slayer, now I'm kinda retired...bit like you," The smiling woman reached down and helped Buffy stand.

"Uh honey, not retired. I'm dead – well, I think I am." Buffy stared around at the meadow and cocked her head. In the distance she could hear voices, male and female.

"Yeah, you're dead. So am I, it comes to us all. Oh, by the way, my name's Nikki."

"Buffy Summers." She reached out and shook the older woman's hand. "Wanna tell me what's going on?"

"Sure, that's why I'm here, kinda to keep you company for now until everything is in place. Come on, lets go sit over there and I'll fill you in." Nikki pointed to a small lake in the distance and then began to walk away. Buffy followed her; all the while her eyes scanned her new environment. Then she realised that she was not in any pain anymore. Buffy glanced down at her hands and saw that all the cuts and bruises from beating on Glory and her stinky minions were gone. Her skin was pristine as were her clothes.

Buffy tripped over a small rock and stumbled, _'I'm dead and suddenly I'm nature girl?'_ Buffy pouted. She'd had no ideas or preconceived notions as to what was in store for her in the afterlife, let alone even if there was one, and now here she was in a field!

"Sit down." Nikki dropped gracefully and crossed her legs. Buffy hesitantly joined her, mimicking her position.

"So now what?" Buffy tried to keep the whine out of her voice and nearly succeeded.

Nikki smiled faintly at the childish antics of her fellow Slayer. "You rest, this is your reward for fighting so hard and saving the world a good few times." Nikki waved her arm at their surroundings.

"Okaaaaay." Buffy huffed slightly. "Umm, hate to be ungrateful but this really wasn't where I thought I'd end up. Do you even have a Mall?" She asked with an impish grin and affecting the harshest Valley girl accent she could manage.

Nikki roared with laughter and shook her head, "This is warrior heaven; somewhere the Powers send all their fallen Champions. It's their gift to us for all our suffering and hard work on Earth. It's warm and safe and you will be finally at peace, and happy. Where we are now is a sorta waiting room." Nikki reached over and ran her fingers over the water to her right and watched the ripples. "Pretty, isn't it?"

"Okay, so now what?" Buffy leant forward and watched Nikki closely.

"We wait." Nikki shrugged.

"So, can I ask you some questions while we wait?" Buffy asked curiously. She had known two other Slayers but this one was older and there was a vibe coming off her that was intriguing her. Also her coat looked wickedly familiar.

"Sure, what do you want to know, honey?"

"When where you a Slayer?" Buffy asked.

"Nineteen seventies, can't you tell from the hair?" Nikki replied easily.

_'Urk, 70's that was when Spike.'_ Buffy shook her head, trying to forget the image of Spike's broken body and his last words to her in the house before they set off.

**I know you'll never love me. I know that I'm a monster. But you treat me like a man. And that's...**

"Hey, you okay?" Nikki caught hold of Buffy's hand and gave it a tug, pulling her attention back to the present.

Buffy blinked. There was something unfinished in her relating to Spike, and it was starting to bug her. "Sorry, yeah. I'm fine…Nineteen Seventies you said? Umm, did you meet…"

Before Buffy could ask, Nikki interrupted her. "Spike? Sure I did, we fought and, well here I am."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh…and before you ask, no he didn't drain me. Just snapped my neck." Nikki recounted her death dispassionately, as if she were giving a weather forecast.

"Only regret I had was leaving someone behind. But when Spike and I fought I was ready...it was time." She smiled sadly, a haunted expression in her eyes. A look, that if Buffy had been looking up, she would have recognised it as the same that had been in her eyes for the last few days of her life.

Buffy's eyes shot up and she stared at Nikki - her final words had echoed her thoughts as she ran down the platform to her death. She opened her mouth to say something, but Nikki spoke.

"It's time! Buffy Anne Summers, it was a pleasure to meet you!" With that she shimmered out and then Buffy felt her body begin to fade as well.

"No! Wait!" she called but to no avail.

Within seconds the peaceful meadow was empty and the only evidence of the two fallen Slayers being there were the ripples on the pond's surface and the scent of crushed grass.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

In which Buffy sees William for the first time

Italics thoughts

Megan thank you for betaing this!!

The description of William's room sorta got carried away with it - guess it's the antique dealer in me ::grin::

She was a being of thought now; no form - no body, only an amalgam of light and her memories.

Memories that were not letting her rest at all! If Buffy could've, she would have crossed her arms and stuck her lip out in a massive pout. _'So much for eternal peace!'_ She thought grumpily.

Buffy's thoughts were filled with Spike and why he had sided with her. And surprisingly, no thoughts for her friends or Dawnie; she knew they were fine… happy…but Spike wasn't, she didn't get why she knew, only that she did and that was why she was not completely at peace, in her little corner of Valhalla. She had unfinished business, in the form of the mercurial bleached blond menace.

In all their time fighting against each other, and then side-by-side as reluctant allies, she had often wondered what had happened in his past to make him into whom he had become. A soulless creature of the night that had loved one woman for over a century; he had protected and nurtured her back to health when she had been nearly killed in Prague.

So much feeling and tenderness towards his Drusilla puzzled her. When Angelus hadn't felt anything for her or anyone else - it didn't make sense to Buffy. Spike was soulless and a vampire just as Angelus had been, but even then he had helped to save the world…all for love.

Whereas Angelus had not loved - only hated.

Where had Spike learned such a deep and abiding love, one that he sustained for the entirety of his existence?

Before she could think of anything else a flash of an image filled her mind and Buffy latched onto it with a ferocious determination.

Then they came like a series of Dali-esque dreams.

The 'this is your unlife Spike show'.

She had no idea how long she watched Spike's life in reverse. Some of it was familiar to her, but now she saw it all...

And the bloody swathe he cut through history, sickened her. She had known he was evil, but to see it all laid out before her in a not so glorious Technicolor dream was too much. Buffy shied away from the murder, rape and blood and turned to Spike's quieter moments.

Of which there were a surprising glut of them. Buffy watched as he curled around Dru's shivering and weakened form and tried to warm her with his body. She watched as he read book after book of poetry, she puzzled over him cautiously writing in leather bound journals - always hiding them away when he was disturbed.

But it was the tenderness he showed towards her, Dawnie, Mom and Dru, which captured Buffy's attention. She honed in on these visions and watched them over and over.

She saw Spike and Dru in Prague and his desperation to get to his fallen Dark Princess and wondered why he cared so much? Why he was so protective and in tune with women? He was a demon and a killer but when it came to the fairer sex Spike and made them his entire focus.

Then in a kaleidoscopic twist, all her attentions were focused on one image.

A man hunched over a desk in a gas light room scribbling on a loose piece of paper with a fountain pen. There were ink stains on his fingers and small round glasses perched on the end of his nose. Which he periodically pushed up with a blue stained index finger. His face was obscured by a tumble of honey brown curls and cast into a shadow by the muted light.

His full lips moved as he muttered to himself under his breath and scribbled on the sheet of parchment on the walnut veneered desk. Buffy looked around the large room with curiosity, trying to work out whom it was she was watching.

_'Obviously a bedroom.'_

She took in the massive walnut four-poster bed, dressed with burgundy velvet curtains and held back with thick gold ropes and tasselled tiebacks. The sheets were crisp linen and the blankets layered over it were covered with a handmade quilt of silks, the rich colours matching the curtains.

The walls were covered in striped wallpaper of deep crimson and off white, and hundreds of small and large pictures covered them. Watercolours, oil paintings but mainly stipple engravings - all of views of Italian ruins and landscapes.

Dotted against the walls were pieces of fine wood furniture - there was a huge armoire and some fancy cane-backed chairs. All of which added to the feeling of masculinity in the room.

As Buffy's eyes roved around the room they came to a halt again on the hunched form of the young man writing away at his desk. He was in his shirtsleeves and had kicked off his shoes, exposing his lean feet to the thick Persian rugs that covered the floor.

He looked familiar.

On the far wall there was a massive fireplace, with a crushed velvet throw draped over it concealing all the marble carvings from view. There was a fire roaring in it and the porcelain dogs that stood on either side were bathed in a golden glow. A Copper coal shuttle stood waiting to be emptied into the burning fire. The two large wing backed armchairs facing the welcoming warmth were covered in cushions and looked big enough to seat two. On either side of the fireplace were two massive blue and white jardinières in which stood miniature orange trees.

Buffy stared at the fire- mesmerised by the flames- for a long moment. She gazed around the beautifully decorated room once more and then her eyes were drawn back to the fireplace.

Above it was a large giltwood over mantle mirror, which was decorated with carved acanthus leaves and the mottled glass reflected the room and it's occupant back to Buffy's curious gaze. She ignored the High Gothic Bronze and ormolu clock that ticked away on its perch in the centre of the mantelpiece and all the curios scattered over the remaining free space on the velvet covered fireplace. As her attention was focused on something reflected in the aged mirror - she could see the man's face.

She stared in confusion at the face of the man who sat writing with his back to her. His sharp cheekbones, full lips and piercing blue eyes reminded her of...SPIKE!

Spike? The perfect picture of a Victorian Gentleman, in his swanky bedroom and writing what? If she had a jaw it would have hit the plush rugs with a resounding thud!

_'When the hell am I?'_

"Master William?" There was a knock on the door.

_'William?'_ Buffy mentally slapped herself. William the Bloody – sure, it was his real name.

There was another knock, "Master William, may I enter?" The voice sounded female. Buffy looked over at the shut door and wondered who the hell it was.

The fountain pen clattered to the desk and William stood, running his fingers through his curly hair.

_'Holy crap, Spike...I mean, Master William has curls!'_ Buffy watched as he shrugged on his waistcoat and then the unthinkable happened.

"You may enter, Esther."

_'Jeez, he sounds like Hugh Grant! All this time I thought he was a cockney rebel and he was just a big faker'_ Buffy mentally rolled her eyes at Spike and then turned her attention back to the suit clad William. _'Big bad my invisible ass!'_

"Thank you, sir! The Mistress wanted me to ensure your bed was turned down and you had this." The white-capped maid gingerly carried the copper bed warmer filled with hot coals to the foot of the bed and slipped it under to covers to warm the sheets.

_'Mistress? Naahhh, he looks too uptight to have a Mistress.'_ Buffy watched the maid bob a small curtsey and exit the room. She looked over at the slender man who was now pacing back and forth and before she could see anymore the room vanished.

-----------------

She curled up on herself and groaned. Cool grass pressed against her cheek. _'Wait, my cheek!'_ Wincing, she rolled onto her knees and pushed herself up. "Huh?" Then she did a mental snoopy dance- she had a body again! As nice as it was being all one with the universe, she missed her arms and legs!

"Hey girl." Nikki's voice filled her ears. Wait, she had ears again? Buffy clapped her hands to her head and knelt up.

"What's going on?" Buffy asked warily. One minute she was watching Spike/William and now her insides felt like someone had rearranged them with a wooden spoon. She hoped like hell that she wasn't in any kinda trouble for snooping around in Spike's…

No…William's life.

"No idea - I was brought here same as you." Nikki sat up and looked around.

"This really will not do!" A new voice echoed around the meadow. "Explain it to her, Nikki."

"What?" Nikki yelled up at the sky.

"No hauntings! It's not becoming of a Slayer of her status." The invisible person sounded miffed. "Sort it out... really most unbecoming of her…tut tut."

Buffy turned to face Nikki, "I wasn't haunting anyone!"

"You sure?" Nikki's deep brown eyes twinkled with mirth.

"Cos we've all done it from time to time...those guys upstairs kinda think it's not cool for us to be wafting around someone's house all Scrooge and Marelylike, rattling our stakes at people!

Buffy frowned; she bit her lower lip between her teeth and then shook her head. "Nope, no haunting. Was just looking around. I wasn't physically there…no reflection. Nothing!" Buffy knew she hadn't cast a reflection in the mirror when she had registered who her writing man had been. Master William had never reacted to her presence in his rooms in any way and neither had the maid who had brought the bedwarmer... nope, she was of the good.

Buffy wriggled her toes cos she could and smiled happily.

"Uh huh." Nikki looked doubtfully at Buffy, she glanced around guiltily and then leant closer to the blonde. "We all do it, I look in on my kid all the time. Just try not to get caught, okay?" Nikki pulled back with a wink.

"Kid? I thought Slayers didn't have children." Buffy cocked her head in question.

"Who told yah that pile o'hooey? I have...had, a son. He's all grown now! Real handsome boy!" Nikki looked proudly at Buffy.

"Wow."

"Yeah wow…now hon, let's talk." Nikki spent the next few hours talking about her life and son Robin and every now and then, dropped in a few hints about how to watch over someone. She never asked who, assuming it was Dawn or one of her friends. Before long they were lying side-by-side in the grass and chatting up a storm. Buffy enjoyed talking with Nikki, it was much like when Faith had first come to town and they had become friends - comrades in arms.

And then they both shimmered out and there was silence again in the meadow.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Buffy is getting a wee bit bolder and William is starting to wonder if he is going mad!!!

Italics thoughts

He sat silently at his desk.

It was back.

He could sense something watching him again and frankly, he was intrigued. The initial and subsequent spine tingling terror had slowly faded to a small corner of his mind and heart, still there but now overlaid with curiosity.

But, every time he turned to see if he could see what ever it was - his empty room stared back at him.

Goosebumps covered his skin and the fine hairs on the back of his neck rose under the burning gaze of whatever it was that was here in his rooms.

William reached for the snifter of brandy that he had brought upstairs with him and took a sip, the fiery liquid slipped down his throat leaving a burning path in it's wake. The dark amber liquid settled in his stomach and false warmth filled his entire being.

William loosened his cravat and tossed it aside - in his sanctuary he knew it was safe to be slightly more relaxed about his appearance. It was not as if he had to worry about anyone seeing him.

William ruefully thought back over the last two weeks.

It had started with Hetty, their maid, who had asked to be released from her contract. When Mama had pressed Ms Jenkins, the Housekeeper as to why, she had been told that Hetty was too scared to tend to the bedrooms, claiming that there was a presence in there that was not of this world.

Both Mama and the Ms Jenkins had agreed that Hetty should be released with a good set of references - until recently she had been an exemplary maid and it was unkind not to ensure that she were placed within a good household.

William, as the only male in the house, had not been included in these debates over Hetty's placement and claims. This was because, Mama and Ms Jenkins were in charge of the household and William had the utmost respect for Ms Jenkins, the housekeeper who had been with them for over twenty years. He knew between the two of them that order would be restored.

William stared pensively at the blank page of his journal, as it lay open on his desk before him, wondering how to document what had been happening to him over the last few weeks. He was hesitant to do record anything on paper, if he wrote anything within the pages of his treasured tome, he would have to ensure that it remained hidden. William wanted to write freely without worrying if he would be carted off to Bedlam.

William ran his lean fingers through the tumbled curls of his hair; the restless motions of his long fingers pushed the hair off his face. The stress of the last fourteen days was etched around his full-lipped mouth and eyes. Resting his chin on one hand, he reached for the brandy snifter with the free one and took a restorative sip.

Turning his thoughts back to Hetty and her defection from their household, William ruefully shook his head at the antics of the young woman and the hysteria and carrying on that had been a prelude of her exit from the house. He had offered no comment on Hetty's claims to his mother or the housekeeper, as he suspected that she was indeed telling the truth. William was sure that there was something in the house; indeed he suspected that whatever it was had followed him out on two social engagements already.

The crackle of the fire and the hissing of the gaslights were the only noise in the room as William sat there pondering over his life.

It had started the night he had returned from the Sutherland's party, his mind filled with cherished memories of Cecily, the sweetest of girls, whom he had been so taken with from the second she had appeared in society.

The evening had for once not been too much of a trial and he had managed instead to spend the evening unmolested by his tormentors who, for once, had let him be. William cherished the sweet glances he had managed to steal of his object of adoration - he knew that Cecily was unable to return his intimate glances, but secretly William was sure that she was of the same mind as he. That they were meant to be!

It had been on his return from the party, his mind filled with the sweetest of dreams and hopes for the future that William's life had changed. He had talked with his mother and sat watching her sew for a short while, before Mama had begun to cough and he had insisted that she retire for the night and rest.

The first tingles had occurred once he had entered his room. William had slipped off his shoes and stockings and shrugged out of his coat before sinking tiredly down at his Bureau Plat. He wanted to record all the wonderful moments of the party and try to capture the essence of Cecily in a new poem. Pushing aside the concern he felt for Mama and her health, William picked up his fountain pen and then began to write

It was then that he had felt the first tug of awareness that there was something in the room with him; he had dismissed it as a fanciful concoction created by the punch he had imbibed that night and carried on with his writing. Interrupted only by Hetty and her placing a bed warmer in his bed and turning down the sheets. If he had realised at that point what was to come, maybe he wouldn't have been so dismissive about it! 

He had sat there writing and for a long while had been lost in the rapture of his words. Dearest Cecily inspired him so much - he wanted to create the perfect sonnet for her to celebrate her beauty, charm, wit and kindness of heart. And yet, he couldn't. The words to capture her radiance failed him; frustrated yet again at his perceived difficulties of expression he had given up, promising to himself to try again in the morn.

He had laid down his pen and sighed deeply in frustration, and that was when William had sensed it - a presence in the room with him. He had shaken off the ridiculous thought and retired to bed.

Over the following days, nothing out of the ordinary occurred and William dismissed the one event as a foolish punch induced dream.

But then it had started up again with a vengeance and now it was not confined to his rooms. William had pondered on calling for a priest to see if he could cleanse the house - but had dismissed the idea as preposterous and dangerous for his reputation. He was aware that in society he was regarded with askance, considered an odd sort of fellow, always in the corner at parties writing in that damned notebook of his. But William had no father to help him, to guide him through the pitfalls of society life and so had turned instead to his mother for love and encouragement - and that was the way he wanted it.

Just the two of them spending time together and enjoying each other's company. He knew that asking his mother's opinion of calling a priest or even the barest mention of the being that watched over him would terrify her. And he had no wish to inflict even the barest smidgen of worry on his dearest mama - she was not a strong woman and he worried that her health would falter even more if he exposed her to his whimsical imaginings. So he had kept his own counsel and tried to continue on as normally as he could.

At first it had been a feeling of being observed. However, to his frustration, William had not been able to determine by whom or for what reasoning. He had felt the prickle of attention often - it was getting stronger as the days and nights progressed and frankly, he had been terrified out of his wits. It was not normal - and he craved normalcy, but instead he was being haunted by something. Even in those early terrifying days he was more concerned with outward appearances and had not considered how unusual or even ridiculous it was that he accepted the wraithlike presence without question.

Instead he had presented the same cheerful countenance to his household and internally quaked with fear.

It had gotten worse when finally the being manifested itself. By this point he had begun to read and research as many tomes on the subject as he could. And sadly, most of them were rather appalling ghost stories. He had, however, found one book of interest in a second hand book shop on Charing Cross road - within it's musty pages he had discovered that there were some poor fools who believed that ghosts, goblins, demons and vampires existed! He had tried to push aside the author's fervent assertions of the reality of an underworld and read the small passages dedicated to ghostly manifestations. All of which detailed a terrifying series of incidents unlike anything he had experienced.

And then everything had changed.

The first time Hetty had started screaming William had been sitting with his mother in the drawing room. He had risen to his feet in surprise and rushed out of the room. The sight of Hetty ashen-faced and mumbling that the room had been cold and that something had pulled at her skirts, greeted him! Ms Jenkins had taken the frightened girl away and calmed her; William had followed the two women and tried to overhear their hushed conversation.

All he had managed to glean was that it was located in his bedroom, where Hetty had been changing the linens on his bed. Reassuring his mama that nothing was wrong and that the girl had seen nothing but a spider, William had hastened upstairs.

To be greeted with nothing.

He had stood in the doorway to his bedroom, puzzled and frustrated. Inhaling a breath, he had sighed deeply and then stalled in shock. A chill ran down his spine; he could smell vanilla. It filled him with a sense of anticipation and delight. Leaning against the doorframe he had taken deep greedy breaths, trying to absorb the scent into him for all eternity.

Over the days that followed, he had caught the whimsical scent often and had thought nothing of it - he had been focussed on his ailing mother and secretly mourning that he had missed several chances of seeing his radiant Cecily at various parties, because he been tending to his Mama.

In the end a doctor had been called, and the decision had been made that if there was no improvement soon, then Anne must go to a spa and under a doctor's supervision begin a course of treatments to clear the flux that had invaded her lungs. William had reluctantly agreed for he knew that Mother had to heal, but he was afflicted with a great anguish that they would have to be parted - even if it were for such a short time.

After the scent appeared, more events occurred which lead him to worry that he had finally succumbed to the insanity that had carried off his maternal grandmother. And to be honest, the ideas that he had been entertaining about ghosts and whatnot he was almost sure that he was well on the road to lunacy!

The first time he had seen something had been when he was seated at his desk. William had glanced up, aware of being observed and to his uttermost shock and surprise, he had seen something out of the corner of his eye.

A flash of movement.

Something on his peripheral vision, which had flickered in and out in an instant.

William remembered leaping up, a strangled scream died in his throat. He whirled to face whatever was there and then slumped in relief, or was it disappointment when there was nothing? - but his own shaken reflection staring back at him in the overmantle mirror. He wanted to scream, but if he did then the entire household would know that he was slowly becoming a lunatic with delusions of a spirit haunting him. His trembling hand rose and he waved it around him - there was nothing there - just the fading scent and a feeling.

That had been the first time and through the following days there had been more. At first just a flicker and the ever present scent of vanilla, and then finally the being had become more bold.

Which had lead to Hetty leaving - he had no idea whether or not she had been entertaining foolish notions lead on by a delicate disposition, but if what the hysterical maid had said was true- and secretly he had believed her- then there truly was something to his imaginings.

Sadly now the little maid was gone - she had been the only other one who had sensed his silent observer. Her reactions to his 'haunting' had reassured him that he wasn't as mad as a March Hare - but now Hetty was gone, and he was left alone.

Buffy knew that the 'guys in charge' would probably not approve but she didn't care - she had to see him again.

There was innocence to pre-vampage William that drew her to him. The fall of his curls into his eyes as he leant over scribbling madly into his journal. She knew it was his journal cos she had snuck up behind him and peeped over his shoulder. The temptation to touch the soft curly hair at the nape of his neck had been so hard to resist. He was just so soft and fluffy all over! Nothing like the cocky and abrasive vampire that she had fought against and then side by side over the final years of her life. Buffy paused, _'wow, that was weird - I think that was the first time I thought about being dead!'_

The maid had begun to bug the crap outta her, with all the jumping around like a cat on a hot tin roof. The massive crucifix and all the praying was kinda lame, too! Buffy had tried to keep out of the short woman's way as best she could, but several times she had moved too slowly and the housemaid had walked right through her. Which was the weirdest feeling in the world! And then the screaming would start.

In the end, she hadn't been able to resist freakin' the girl out! So she had tried to touch her. The first few times her hand had floated through Hetty, and then success!

Buffy had given the housemaid's full skirt a gentle tug and then blew a cool puff of air across the back of her neck. Buffy had immediately felt bad, the poor girl had wigged out on a major scale and started yelling the house down. Buffy had tried to calm her down with a touch and the poor woman had shrieked like a banshee…

Guilt filled Buffy, when she realised that her silly games had lead to the woman leaving.

But what had impressed her was how cute William's mom had been – making sure that Hetty got as good a job as she had now. _'Wonder if I'll be punished for scaring Hetty…'_ Buffy hoped not – she was counting on her Slayer record to keep her in the good. The impish blonde ghost wanted to stay here and watch William.

She had never expected this! Spike had told her he had always been bad – that fateful night at the Bronze when she had paid him to tell her about the other two Slayers. He had been all full of the 'oh little girl, if only you knew' and Buffy had assumed he had been a serial killer or something before he died. Never in her wildest imaginings had she dreamt that Spike was a nice guy. Okay, kinda wet around the ears and a Momma's boy – but he was a cutie.

None of her questions about Spike had been answered as of yet.

Except one.

William had a loving heart.

She could see this in the way he treated his mother and the adoring looks he had given that bitchca Cecily, _'who sooo totally didn't deserve them!'_


End file.
